Torturous Stars
by whitetiger91
Summary: "He was angry that everyone around him seemed to be able to find someone they loved, that they could be happy. They were free to love as they wished, to avoid prejudice over their parent's actions." Sitting in the school grounds, Scorpius wonders how he could have lost his girl. Warning: contains references to alchohol.


**Torturous Stars**

To say that it was a pleasant day was an understatement- the wind was light as it blew through the grounds, kicking up the Autumn leaves and easing the heat of the bright sun as it shone done. Students all around were enjoying their day, running around and giggling as they relished in the freedom from class the weekend offered. Fanged Frisbees whizzed by a small group of second year Ravenclaws, and their raucous laughter from dodging an enraged caretaker only added to the free atmosphere. Even the birds appeared to be delighted by the lovely weather, twittering as they flew from tree to tree.

Unfortunately, there was one particular student that wasn't feeling so happy. The platinum blond- haired boy sighed, picking up a brown bottle and raising it to his thin lips. The liquid scorched his throat, but he savoured the warmth that enveloped his stomach.

It was a strange concoction he had become addicted to in his seventh year- a mix of crushed Patented Daydream Charms, Firewhiskey and the undetectable Veritaserum. After an idiot Gryffindor had put the truth potion into his morning Pumpkin Juice one morning in his fifth year, hoping that he would confess to being a Death Eater just like his father, he had discovered the potential the combination had had. After experimenting with a few different drinks and adding in the daydream charms, he finally had managed to create a poison that could do the one thing he had never managed to do for himself: be free.

His seventeen years of life had been filled with the need to be the perfect Pureblood, to follow orders without question. His father made sure that he never made a fool of him, never acted like anything less than the Wizarding 'royalty' his family continued to pretend to be. Even now, as he sat down with his back rigid, he couldn't free himself from his upbringing.

It wasn't like he could be safe or unrestricted at Hogwarts either. Despite being an amazing seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, it had taken years for anybody to accept him as anything other than the son of a Death Eater. No one recognised how his father had risked his life when he deferred from the murderous group; no one recognised how he had saved lives during the war. Instead, his peers would only applaud the students whose fathers and mothers were the heroes of the war, clapping them on the back as they walked through the halls. When they saw him, they would simply try to sneak Skiving Snackboxes into his food to make him sick, or consume Edible Dark Marks in front of him in mock of his heritage. He cursed the tortuous stars above that were now hidden beneath the brilliant blue of the sky, wondering why he could not escape the perception that he was doomed to follow in his father's footsteps.

The only freedom he could find was expressing his feelings, as the drink allowed him to do. He didn't care if he was caught with the illicit substance- if he wasn't sneaky enough to hide it, his father could easily pay his way out of trouble. It was worth it to be able to shout about the harsh reality of his life, to get out the thoughts that were often clouded and pushed to the back of his mind.

Raising the bottle to his lips again and frowning only as a mere drop came out, he tried not to glare at the couple twenty metres or so in front of him. A boy with hair almost as white as his own spun around a girl with auburn hair as their red and gold and blue and bronze scarves whipped around them in the breeze. Their comfort was palpable, and it made him sick. Still, there was no point in disguising his disgust; it wasn't as if the girl could see him anyway sitting there in the shadows. Her eyes were now only for that boy. The other students too were too busy skipping about, basking in each other's company, to care. It seemed that the only one who would notice him was himself- he alone watching as he faded away into the darkness.

As the couple kissed, he turned away, cursing himself for letting her go so easily. He hadn't meant to push her away, to yell and scream as he did. He hadn't meant to accuse her of agreeing with her cousins, that she thought he was no good. But he did, and now all he could do was hope that she still held him in her beating heart, and that her new boyfriend did not break it on her.

His leather satchel laid as his feet and he ruefully eyes the small potion bottle that spilled out of it. It was no wonder that she wouldn't take him back- his ideas were childish and evil. The potion was an old vial half full of Wolfsbane, one that he had stolen after the Potions Master volunteered him to clean out the school's storeroom last Monday afternoon. He had grabbed it on a whim, not really sure at the time what he would do with it. It wasn't until he walked past the Gryffindor table that morning and saw that his girl was showing pictures of a happy couple at their engagement party that the foolish plan had formed.

He was angry that everyone around him seemed to be able to find someone they loved, that they could be happy. They were free to love as they wished, to avoid prejudice over their parent's actions. No one questioned who they chose to marry, nor did they get accused of turning into future murderers. It made him jealous and bitter, and he thought the best way to cure those feelings was to make everyone, including his girl's relatives, as unhappy as he was. As such, he had planned on owling the potion to the blue-haired male shown in the photograph. He knew very well that the male's late father was a werewolf, and hoped that his beautiful part-veela fiancé would discover the letter and second guess her choice of partner. He knew the blonde female would become hysterical, despite her own father having werewolf tendencies, having found himself on the end of her rants several times in the past. Boy, she was certainly scary when she wanted to be.

It wasn't well thought out and was certainly not one of the best of his schemes. Really, he knew he could do much better and he shook his head- there was no point trying anyway. Picking up the vial and flicking off the cork stopper, he drained the silvery liquid onto the dry grass beside him.

Laughter echoed around the grounds as he stifled another sigh. He knew that laugh anywhere; sure enough, looking across the grass once more, he saw his girl being lifted into the air. She was genuinely happy, as was the boy he tried so hard not to hate. They would never be friends, but he could not hate the guy-he was as talented and intelligent as she, and he could not deny how their similarities appeared to complement each other. The Ravenclaw boy was even cordial to him during class, despite the fact that his loony mother had been imprisoned by his father's family during the war. It was no wonder she had chosen him.

He thought back to a time when he was the only one who could make her laugh, the only one who could bring a smile to her rosy full lips. Those memories were the only things he could offer her, the very existence of any good he had had in him. He loved how he could always talk to her, how she would somehow managed to get him to agree with her theories despite how adamant he could be. He loved how she wasn't ever afraid to talk to him, despite how much her older cousins abhorred him. More importantly, he loved how he could lie his head down by her side, and she would run a delicate hand through his blond locks. If only he could have frozen time and allow those moments to stay, if only he had not turned everything cold.

She must have sensed that he was looking at her, for her chocolate brown eyes searched the Black Lake's shore. He willed himself to get up and walk away from her gaze, but a small, and very irritating, voice in his head reminded him that 'when it's real, you cannot walk away.' He ducked his head, pretending to tie up his shoelace instead.

It was only when a shadow fell over him that he dared look up again. 'I'm sorry, I forgot that I only exist when you need something,' he thought bitterly as he realised who it was, unnecessary hatred aimed at his best friend. It wasn't the boy who was causing all the rifts in his relationships, yet he felt that he could've at least done more to prevent the fallout between him and his girl. He knew he was only there to nag at him to sober up and go study, especially seeing as his green eyes narrowed at the discarded bottle now toppled over at the blond's side. If not that, he was probably there to borrow a book or something, seeing as he could never managed to go a month without losing his textbooks.

Without invitation, the raven-haired boy plopped down, spreading his rather short legs out in front of him. The boy then leant over and patted him on the back, pretending that he understood what he was going through as his lips curled into a small smile. He wanted to choke him for that, to remind him that he actually had it easy with his father being the hero and not the villain. Still, he sat back onto the grass and listened in silence as his companion began to complain about how he could never be as great as his oldest brother or as his father.

He sat watching the sunlight shimmer off the Lake's dark surface as the hours ticked by, wondering what he should do. By now, the effects of the drink were slowly wearing off, and all he knew was that his memories of the good times were left behind, teasing him to go back in time. He could still hear her laughter, and it haunted him. He wanted to forget her, to pretend that he was still something to her. He wanted to believe that he would not always carry her close to him in the teardrops now swimming in his eyes, yet the same inner voice told him that it was impossible.

* * *

**_A/N: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter._**

**_I do hope this was somewhat cohesive and not boring, as I must confess that I struggle to write about the Next Generation. However, I will do anything to help The Order win, and hence I did try my best haha._**

**_This fic was written for the Diagon Alley II forum's 'New Year's Battle' fifth round. As usual, prompts (underlined in story) and points were tied to this fic and they are as follows:_**

**_Dialogue: _**

**_"I'm sorry, I forgot that I only exist when you need something." 3_**

**_"When it's real, you cannot walk away." 3_**

**_Characters:_**

**_Victoire Weasley 5_**

**_Lorcan Scamanda (you may choose 2 dialogue prompts with him) 3_**

**_Albus Potter 5 (plsu one additional potion prompt with him) 5_**

**_Scorpius Malfoy 5_**

**_Pairing: Must be romantic_**

**_Teddy/ Victoire (must use at least one restriction prompt) 5_**

**_Lorcan/ Rose (must use at least one restriction prompt) 4_**

**_Restriction:_**

**_No '?' in story 2_**

**_No dialogue in story 2_**

**_No names throughout story 2_**

**_WWW prompts:_**

**_Fanged Frisbees, Patented Daydream Charms, Skiving Snackboxes, Edible Dark Marks 4_**

**_Potion: Must be tangibly present_**

**_Veritaserum 3_**

**_Wolfsbane 5 (may have one extra pairing)_**

**_Songs:_**

**_Don't Let Me Go by Raign 5_**

**_Total: 56 points_**

**_Of course, this was made all the harder by not being able to use question marks, names or dialogue (thoughts not included). I hope that I managed to somehow keep everyone in character, or at least how I imagine they would be. Thanks to the lovely The Lady Arturia's work 'Every Rose has its Thorn' I should note that I will always ship Scorose now haha. I hope you enjoyed this somehow and thank you for taking the time to read it!_**


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